Wednesday, October 8, 2014

I got a tattoo.

A Colombian tattoo.
Let me explain.

Two-wheeled Vehicles Are Not My Friend.

I’ve stated this fact since I moved to Colorado in 2003 and
tried mountain biking for the first time.
I’ve never worked out so hard I thought I was going to throw up… until I
tried mountain biking. Maybe it would
have helped if I knew how to work the gears.

This fact was solidified in 2007 when I was talked into
taking a mo-ped ride around Mykanos, Greece… although I tried my best to
resist. My lesson in riding this vehicle:
“Right hand is the gas, left hand is the break.
Got it?” First inclination should
have been that I wasn’t able to get the bike off the kickstand. And then when I did manage to, the bike fell
to the side. I had underestimated the
weight of a mo-ped. And it’s take-off as
well. An up-hill, one-way cobble stone
street were the circumstances I faced as I began my mo-ped career. It ended 20 feet later as the famous
white-washed walls of Greece began coming towards me. I managed to scrape the right side of my body
and bike against the wall only to fall into an open driveway. I’ve heard that it is hard for American women
to rent mo-peds in the Mediterranean. I
am “Exhibit A”.

In my last post I was explaining how the only way to Paso
del Mango is on a motorcycle. Every time
I’ve taken a motorcycle I’ve wondered if this will be my ill-fated trip. However, I was priding myself on the fact
that my death grip on the handle behind my seat had loosened considerably
during my two weeks here. I had even
managed to let my arms hang to the side for a few seconds. Welp… today was the day.

Last Sunday I managed to find a church in Bonda to
attend. It happens to be right next to
Anna’s house. Anna is the awesome
Colombian woman I have the joy of working beside everyday. But after I asked about the church, it took
another hour to arrange a moto-taxi and then 20 minutes to actually get
there. By the time I arrived there were
two minutes left in the service. (As a
result I asked if there was another church meeting which led me to the rather
charismatic service I was enjoying until 2 hours into the service and the Bible
had yet to be opened and there was a lot of talk of money and health…) This Sunday, I was only 30 minutes late. Carolina’s husband, Ivan, was my moto-taxi
driver this time. Carolina also works at
Carpe Diem but usually during the shift opposite me. Ivan was gracious enough to wait for me and
bring me home as well. All was going
well, even with the 10-year old kid we picked up on the way (translation: 3
people on the motorcycle). We dropped
the kid off before a rather big hill we made up fine, but the next big hill
didn’t go so well. We hit a pretty big
hole, the bike fell to the left side, I tumbled off, with just a little dust on
me, but a rather large burn on my leg from the muffler that instantly removed
the top layer of skin. I dusted myself
off, hoped back on the bike with just a few minutes to go to Carpe Diem. After Carolina and her adorable kids Andrea
and Martin, and two lovely British/Belgian guests Rich and Julie all assessed
the damage, we decided that ice was the best remedy for the moment. Carolina took out a big block from the
freezer and broke off a chunk to apply to my leg. Rich and Julie ran to get their rather
impressive first-aid kit. And 4-year-old
Martin used the piece of paper in his hand to fan me. Precious!
Another Dutch couple suggested a visit to the doctor. That would most likely mean another moto-taxi
ride that I wasn’t really all that thrilled about taking at the moment. 6 hours later, as I type this, I’ve applied a
pretty serious coating of Neosporin and used a big bandage provided by Rich and
Julie. Right now, I only remember the
burn when I look at it. I’m hoping for
the best, and that my new tattoo heals quickly.

The rest of the story is this. At church, where my presence increased
attendance by about 3%, the pastor was teaching on the story of Joseph. On the ride home, I told Ivan, who joined for
the last 30 minutes of the service, that the story of Joseph was one of my most
favorite stories in the Bible. It’s a
story of God’s sovereignty and a plan that could never be laid by man. It is only after decades that the Lord’s plan
and purpose for Joseph’s life becomes clear.
I don’t want to over-spiritualize a burn from a motorcycle muffler but I
look forward to seeing how this may play into the Lord’s plan for my time here
at Carpe Diem. Already, I can say that
it has helped to mend a somewhat strained relationship between Carolina and
myself. For reasons I don’t totally
understand, I haven’t quite been welcomed into Carolina’s life. However, her care and concern today has been
wonderful. If a fated ride on a
two-wheeled vehicle was necessary to make that happen, so be it. To God be the Glory!

In other news…

I’ve spent a lot of time reading. No internet access is good for that. I’ve completed books that I’ve started years
ago. A few have common themes. I highly recommend David Platt’s “Radical”
and Francis Chan’s “Crazy Love”. If you
read the first chapter of each book, you will understand why I was avoiding
finishing the books. But considering the
life I’ve been living for the last year, the idea of rethinking American excess
as Christians is a little easier to swallow.

Last week, I managed to turn my day off into 48 hours away
from Carpe Diem. I spent the night at a
chilled-out “surf camp” inhabited mostly by Aussies called Costeno Beach. I spent my second night in a hammock. It was much more successful than my first
night. The next day I took off for a
trek through Tayrona National Park. I
took a less traveled entrance which was my first serious trekking session since
the Achilles mishap. The first two hours
were up-hill but on a decent path. My
only company were two Colombians on horseback that passed me half way through. And then I made it to Pueblito, a settlement
reminiscent of the native way of life. I
have to be honest and say the trek from Pueblito to Cabo San Juan, was a pretty
gnarly “hike” around boulders and tree roots and obstacles such as deep pits
under said boulders and roots. I managed
to arrive at the incredible beach destination of Cabo San Juan without incident
and immediately found enjoyment in the most delicious beverage I’ve ever
tasted, mango juice with milk. I spent a
wonderful afternoon on the beach and then a pretty restless night in a hammock. The next morning, I chose to take the hour
long horseback ride out of the park as opposed to the three-hour trek. I had a great conversation with my guide
Alex, about faith and family. Then I made
my way back to Carpe Diem… definitely making the most of my time away. And needing a vacation from my vacation.

As I was doing my Sunday afternoon task of cutting loads of
carrots, onions, peppers and tomatoes in preparation for the Sunday evening
meal of “espegetis”, I was reflecting on how much I really enjoy my role here. I’ve never done so much physical labor in my
life, but it feels good to work with my hands.
I’ve pulled lots of weeds, most every day. I’ve swept away mud and dirt from sidewalks
and stairways as the daily rains create some pretty significant run-off on our
hillside location. I worked with Julian
to plant some grass seed. I’ve carried
buckets of food to the compost pile a few minutes away and up to the chicken
coop to feed the 4 chickens and 2 ducks.
And I’ve scraped paint off of a wall, in the rain, which left me covered
in a wet-yellow-powdery mess. And then
Julian and I painted the wall white a few days later. I’m not gonna lie, while I’m completing
every task, I’m recalling the tools available in the US that allow each task to
be completed in a fraction of the time.
But for the first time, I understand the value and satisfaction that
comes from working with your hands with limited tools. This also means that I have a greater
appreciation for the simple life touted by people like Wendall Barry. I don’t think I understand that fully
before. I’ve also asked myself if I’d
feel the same way if I did this day-in and day-out. I can’t say that I can honestly answer that
question.

But the best part of the job remains the people. Around the dinner table at night I’ve enjoyed
conversations with Colombians, Argentines, Brits, Kiwis, South Africans, Dutch,
Germans, and Belgians. We talk about our
travels and learning experiences along the way, world politics, and books we’re
reading … all things I love talking about.
Each day, I imagine what it could be like to do hospitality of this sort
in my home. I’m looking forward to the
day when my dreams will become reality.

About Me

I grew up in Peoria, Illinois surrounded by a pretty remarkable family. I explain it by saying that there are 50 people in my extended family and about 40 of them live within 5 minutes of my grandparents. Even though I loved the life I grew up with, in 6th grade I had the dream of moving to Colorado. I wanted to go to college in Colorado but mom and dad said that was too far away. So I chose to go to Taylor University in Upland, Indiana. I graduated January 29, 2003 and moved to Edwards on February 3, 2003. When I arrived, it was as though the Lord held out a silver platter including my house, friends, job, church and a sense of belonging. I've taught social studies at Eagle Valley High School from 2003 to May of 2013. And now, I'm taking a year long sabbatical. The goal is to rest, reflect and determine what my next steps will be. I may return to teaching or I may take the opportunity to pursue other dreams... which would lead me to the hospitality industry with the ultimate goal of someday opening a bed and breakfast. Regardless, my prayer is that I will have an open heart and a teachable spirit in the year to come. Thanks for taking the journey with me!